


Don't Shut Me Out

by MikailaT



Category: Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Sequel, Softness, angst here and there, more canon deviant as time goes on, ongoing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-05-12 01:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19218622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikailaT/pseuds/MikailaT
Summary: Sylvanas hadn't seen Jaina since the day she broke free from the Lich King's control and she's done her very best to try and forget her.  Imagine her surprise when the mage sends her a summon that she can't bring herself to refuse.Sequel to 'Don't Run Away'





	1. Chapter 1

Few creatures would consider a series of crypts and catacombs as sanctuary, but those creatures weren’t undead.

The Undercity, once intended to be the seat of power for the scourge that had decimated the human kingdom of Lorderon, now served another purpose. King Arthas had fled his homeland and retreated to the frozen north at his masters call. In a moment of weakness, both the Lich King and his favorite Death Knight lost control of a majority of undead in Lorderon.

Those undead were freed. Their minds no longer buried under the indomitable will of a powerful tyrant. Their will was their own now and they were able to live their new unlives as their own people. But what sort of life is an unlife? When one is still cursed to be a walking corpse or a tortured specter? When the rest of the natural world looks at you with disgust and wishes to annihilate you purely for your crime of existing? What sort of life could one live that was not total agony.

The Forsaken, as they so called themselves, were determined to answer that question the only way they could. Together, and under the leadership of their queen.

Sylvanas Windrunner was among the first of the Scourge to break away from the Lich Kings grasp. Through resourcefulness and determination, she gave the other undead their freedom as well. Under her leadership they destroyed the Dreadlords that threatened to destroy them should they not submit to their rule. It was she who brought her fellow undead to the abandoned Undercity. There they were safer against the forces of Azeroth who wanted them dead. Sylvanas brought her people freedom and sanctuary, but there was still one thing that eluded them. Something they were long overdue.

Revenge.

Many, if not all, of the Forsaken, were victims of Arthas’ slaughter across Lorderon and the neighboring kingdoms. Sylvanas in particular was someone he considered a prized conquest. Once the ranger general of the high elven kingdom of Quel Thalas, Windrunner had her soul torn from her body and twisted into a horrid banshee. All because her constant repels of Arthas’ attack made him angry. He wanted her to see him raze her homeland to the ground. To partake in the destruction of Silvermoon and all his conquests afterwards. To commit unspeakable atrocities against her will and suffer several more at his hand still. She was his puppet. His plaything. To abuse and discard as he pleased.

She felt nothing but hatred for the Death Knight. Ever since regaining her freedom, one of her greatest desires was for vengeance. For her and all those Arthas had wronged and ruined. She came close once before he fled. Alas, her desire to see him suffer undid the entire plan. He was rescued and shipped off to the north before she could finish the job and now he was more powerful and dangerous than ever. Even as the months carried on, Sylvanas still hated herself for letting him slip away. Now she could not take her revenge alone.

The scourge was too powerful a force for her young faction to take on by themselves. That wasn’t even accounting for the other races that wanted them dead. Former allies and loved ones turned their backs on them all because undeath made them monstrosities in their living, light obsessed eyes. Sylvanas had enemies at every turn. As such, in order for her people to prevail, she needed allies.

The banshee queen was in her throne room, her irritation hung heavier in the air than the sulfur. The emissary she had sent to Kalimdor was already days overdue on his return, not that such a thing was uncommon. The ambassadors Sylvanas sent to other kingdoms often arrived days late in pieces, if at all. No one seemed to wish to ally themselves with a rabble of corpses. If the alliance would not accept them, then she had no choice but to turn to their equal in power. The Horde. Something she would not dare to consider in life, but undeath certainly helped change ones perspective on things. She had hoped that the Horde’s history in dark magics and current fixation on honor would yeild more positive diplomatic results, but as the days went on by, the sliver of hope that remained in her still, unbeating heart began to wane.

As she was about to sulk at yet another failure, her ears, not made any less keen by undeath, flicked upward at the sound of approaching footseps. The dark rangers surrounding her stood at attention as she awaited whoever approached. Soon the doors to the throne room opened and she saw the emissary she had sent weeks ago stand before her. The stress of his journey were quite apparent as his garments appeared as tattered and weathered as his flesh. His left arm seemed to be in dreadful shape as well. He would require a trip to the Apothecary afterwards, assuming he didn’t say anything Sylvanas didn’t want to hear. She was in a rather foul mood as it was.

“Emissary,” she greeted coldly, power booming from her voice despite it being little more than a whisper.

“My lady,” the ambassador replied, taking a knee. “I apologize for my tardiness. There were unforeseen delays.”

Sylvanas’ face remained unreadable in his presence. “Well, you appear to be fully intact, if a little worse for wear. You’re already more succesful than previous undead in your position.”

She gestured for him to rise. “Report. What is the situation with the Horde? Will they hear us out?”

The man stood up, appearing to quiver slightly with nervousness. “About that, my lady... we never made it to the Horde.”

The Banshee Queen’s face remained neutral, but the growing fire in her crimson gaze indicated a rising anger. “You should know that I don’t take kindly to failure, ambassador.”

He flinched at her words but knew better than to try and run. “Allow me to explain, your majesty. You see... we were caught in a storm at sea and we’re throne off course. We arrived on an island off the southern coast of Kalimdor. A place called Theramore.”

Theramore. This was not a territory she was familiar with. Then again, all she truly knew about Kalimdor was that it was the land that the orcish horde fled to not long before the Scourge attacked the eastern kingdoms and that it was the sight of the Burning Legion’s downfall almost a year ago.

“We had landed aboard the island to try and get our bearings before discovering it was indeed a human settlement,” the ambassador continued.

Windrunner’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That would explain your rather ragged disposition. Of course, it’s still impressive that you managed to escape.”

“We didn’t,” he corrected. “We were captured, and then released.”

A lengthy elven brow arched high in confusion. “A human settlement just let you go? They didn’t destroy you on sight?”

“Indeed. I still can’t quite believe it, and I was there.” The emissary reached behind him and pulled a scroll from his back pocket. “The leader of the city asked about who we are and of who our leader was. When I told her we were lead by Sylvanas Windrunner, she provided us with a vessle to return home as well as this. For you personally.” 

The gears in Sylvanas’ head were turning as the emissary continued his story. Taking the scroll he offered, she quickly opened it and looked upon its contents. Her blood red eyes widened almost immediately, recognizing the handwriting.

”... Leave me. All of you.”

The ambassador bowed lightly and exited without another word, thankful to not incur his queen’s wrath. The dark rangers around her also obeyed silently, but there expressions read of concerned as they never saw Sylvanas react like this to anything, much less a scroll.

Sylvanas returned to her throne as she read the parchment.

"Dear Sylvanas,

I hope this letter finds you well, as well as a woman in your position can be. I must admit, it’s rather strange to be addressing you by letter after all that’s happened, but I hope this can be the start of good things.

Your emissary has told us all about you and what you’ve done for the undead who have been freed from the Scourge. Others may find it all far fetched, but I know that if there was anyone strong enough to break loose from the Lich Kings control, it’s you. Hearing your tale has been nothing short of inspiring and assures me that we are in an unprecedented era of Azeroth’s history.

I understand this may mean your emissary may have technically failed his mission, but I’m sending him back to you with this summons in the hopes that you will come to Theramore. Once your here, we can properly discuss the possibility of a partnership and a future for your people.

I eagerly await your arrival.

Sincerely,  
Lady Jaina Proudmoore."

Beneath Jaina’s name was a post script. Where as the majority of the letter was written in common, this was written in Thalyssian, which Sylvanas had begun to teach her before.... before...

The text itself was rather basic and perhaps not grammatically correct, but it was understandable.

"Please come to me. I miss you."

~

“You cannot be serious.”

The voice of disapproval came from Varimathras. A dreadlord roughly 7 feet in height not counting his horns and a wingspan that made him appear even larger. His eyes burned with fel magic as well as annoyance at his queen’s decision.

“Varimathras, you of all creatures should know that I never joke about these things.” Sylvanas replied as she gathered her supplies.

“You realize that this has to be a trap. Once they destroy you, the Forsaken shall be in shambles and easy to pick apart.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but Lady Proudmoore isn’t like that. She’s sentimental, naive, foolishly optimistic. We can use that to our advantage.”

Varimathras’ gaze narrowed at the dark ranger. “And how do you know so much about this Proudmoore?”

Sylvanas gave him a warning glare. “When that becomes any of your business I will gladly tell you. But until then, keep your probing questions to yourself before I tear that forked tongue from your head.

Varimathras reluctantly conceded. Despite how foolish he believed this all was, he knew better than to try and defy Sylvanas when she was determined to do anything. 

The dark lady had just packed the last of her essentials, which were relatively few and proceeded to head from her quarters to the shipyard. 

“And what will you have us do when you do not return?” Varimatiras asked before Sylvanas passed the doorway.

She turned back to meet him with that ever burning gaze. “If you’re hoping to take over, don’t get too excited. I will return, and when I do, I will bring a glorious future for the Forsaken with me.”

She marched forward with determination. Admittedly the future of her people was only part of the reason she was personally going to Theramore. In all of her time in undeath, she had encountered Jaina once. The day she finally broke free form the Lich King’s control. The day he told her to kill Jaina. An order Sylvanas could not an would not obey. The day that Jaina looked at her like a long lost lover and not the monstrosity she had become. 

Sylvanas needed to see her again even if she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. Especially herself.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun began to rise in the east, soon to shine on their nearing destination. The journey had been arduous for the almost ruined undead ship, but they stayed course nonetheless. Sylvanas reclaimed her fate from the hands of a ruthless tyrant. She certainly wouldn’t let a few waves get in the way of her destination.

Yet, the closer they came to this Theramore, the harder it was for the undead elf to retain her poise. She was as eager for this meeting as she was dreading it. The closer they came, the stronger these conflicting feelings warred in her still, unbeating heart. She was going to see Jaina again. What was going to become of this? Would she guarantee a future for her people? What if Jaina turned her away? What if she didn’t?

Windrunner’s jaw clenched. Her mind rattled with plans and contingencies for the outcome of this mission which were all becoming clouded with the growing fog of emotion. No matter what she considered, her thoughts would always come back to that young mage.

Sylvanas and Jaina been intimate together in life. Hell, the Dark Ranger honestly considered marrying her if she had survived the attack of the Scourge. Of course, things didn’t work out like that. Fate had a cruel sense of humor. Sylvanas was far gone from the Ranger General she used to be, but Jaina didn’t see her that way. At least, not when they last spoke. Perhaps it was misplaced hope for the younger woman. Once Proudmoore properly saw what Sylvanas had become, she would turn her away in contempt like the rest of the Alliance had done.

But what if she didn’t? That thought worried her even more than the alternative.

She tightened her already clenched fist and returned her thoughts to the present. Her ship had neared the bay of Theramore. After being hailed and guided onto the dock, the Banshee Queen was ashore. She walked swiftly and with purpose. She wasted no time on pleasantries and made her way inside the island city.

The first thing she noticed was the architecture. It was a notable fusion of the rustic charm of the Menethil kingdom, and the sturdy, if inelegant blocky forts of Kul Tiras. A fitting combination for the woman who ruled over it. It seemed Jaina had already left a mark on the world. A lifetime ago, that would have filled Sylvanas’ heart with pride in her beloved. Now, however, her face gave no such indication.

The second thing to catch her attention were the people. The townsfolk and guards she and her own escort passed were notably taken aback by the sight of them. Some of them even stood poised to strike should the undead give any sign of aggression. This didn’t bother Sylvanas. She rather preferred that the rabble were made nervous by her presence. Nevertheless, they remained as they were. None of the townsfolk ran away screaming that the Scourge had returned. None of the militia attacked them on sight. They remained civil, which was more than could be said about the rest of the Alliance they interacted with. Perhaps this meeting wouldn’t be for naught.

It was then that Sylvanas noticed an older human woman walking briskly in her direction. The banshee and her company came to a stop as she did. The older woman wore formal looking dress robes and a pair of spectacles that rested low on her nose. She had the makings of a librarian or a secretary. The human gave Sylvanas a courteous albeit slightly strained smile.  
“Ah, Lady Sylvanas! Lady Jaina Proudmoore has been expecting you,” the human began. “I’m sure you must be weary from all your time at sea. We can provide you with commo-“

“I haven’t the time nor the patience for your distractions,” Sylvanas interrupted coldly. “Either take me to Proudmoore or get out of my way.”

The woman’s smile became more strained as she adjusted her spectacles. ”...O-Of course. Right this way.”

Windrunner followed the human to the center of the city where a large fort resided. The interior decoration matched the rest of the fusion design of the architecture. The undead elf paid no further mind for their surroundings, save the sight of any possible assailants. Her thoughts turned inward. She still wasn’t sure what she would say to Proudmoore when she arrived. The uncertainty gnawed at her. It was frustrating to say the least. In the past year, Sylvanas had very clear list of assets and enemies. The list of the latter far outweighed the former which boded poorly for her and her forsaken. Yet here she was, about to meet someone who would lend her their ear. The future of her newly found kingdom hung in the balance and here she was struggling to even find the words.

When they arrived at their destination, Sylvanas stepped through the door opened for her. The office she entered was empty but it had Jaina written all over it. A desk littered with scrolls, magelight lanterns strewn all over the place, a bookcase surrounding the room, the tomes upon them likely ordered in the young mages liking rather than by any official alphabet. It was organized chaos. Just like Jaina.

“If you would take a seat, Lady Jaina will be right with you. She-“

“Runs late. Yes, I know,” Sylvanas finished flatly.

Without another word, the human shut the door behind her, Sylvanas’ dreadguards standing watch on the other side. She was alone with her thoughts once again. Uncertainty and doubts rung in her head louder than the voice of the Lich King. Perhaps coming here was a mistake. She couldn’t secure a place for the Forsaken in Azeroth if she couldn’t keep it together for a single interaction.

Just as she was about to stand up, the door swung open. Turning to look, her elven ears shooting straight in alert, Sylvanas saw her.

Jaina still her wore her resplendent white and purple Kirin Tor robes. Locks of golden hair spilled from her head over her shoulders. Her eyes were still the most magnificent of ocean blue. The only possible difference to her was that her skin was slightly darker, no doubt the result of living in the climate of Kalimdor. By and large, she was still as Sylvanas remembered her.

The mage had entered the room looking slightly disheveled and breathing heavily, as if she rushed from the other side of the city to the office. Her eyes were wide in near disbelief at the sight of the Banshee.

“Sylvanas,” Jaina breathed. Dammit, her voice was still so soft and smooth. “You’re actually here.”

Sylvanas stood up to meet the mage, every ounce of her will dedicated to keeping herself as stoic and cold as she could appear. “Thank you, Lady Proudmoore, for pointing out the obvious. You’re as sharp as ever, I see.”

Jaina’s expression sobered at that remark as she cleared her throat and dusted off her robes. “Ahem! Yes, well... shall we?” she asked, gesturing to her desk.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Sylvanas replied, moving to sit at the chair facing the front of the desk as Jaina walked around to sit behind it.

The banshee was the first to speak again. “In your summons, you said you could guarantee a future for my people, the Forsaken. I’ve come to determine if you can keep that promise.”

Jaina kept her eyes on Sylvanas, as if taking in every detail of the banshee sitting across from her. After a moment she smiled and nodded. “Of course. Once your emissary explained everything to me, I knew I had to help you.” Her attention turned to a scroll that she unfurled on the table, revealing a map. “I have gained significant influence with several key leaders of the Alliance since the fall of the legion. Explaining your situation to them should earn your faction a sympathetic ear. Tell me, is there anything more about the Forsaken that I should know?”

“Its ranks are composed entirely of those who fought and died for the Alliance and thus far they’ve repaid our sacrifice with scorn and slaughter.”

Jaina was quiet for a moment. ”... Yes, good. I’m sure once they fully understand your people’s sacrifice they will be more than willing-“

“They know about our sacrifice. They just don’t care.”

”... Well, fear can often make fools of even the wisest leaders. Once they realize that you and your kind are not the unthinking, unfeeling Scourge, they will be more open to negotiations.”

Sylvanas’ eyes narrowed but she made no response.

Jaina took out a blank parchment and a quill and began taking notes. “Now, what would you say is the greatest contribution the Forsaken can make to the Alliance?”

“Scientific advancements,” Sylvanas replied without missing a beat. “We have engineers and apothcaries who work tirelessly to craft tools to bolster our strength and bring us closer to completing our mission.”

Jaina tilted her head in curiosity. “Your mission? What would that be?”

“To kill Arthas of course.” Sylvanas eyes stayed locked on the mage, gauging her reaction. A brief reflexive wave of emotion crossed Jaina’s face before she concealed it behind the mask of professionalism. “Surely, you’re not surprised. That man is solely responsible for bringing the eastern kingdoms into ruin. He has slaughtered countless people and raised them all to slaughter countless more. He was the one that bound our wills to the Lich King. Made us his slaves. We have our freedom, but it’s not enough. We demand justice and we shall not stop until we get it. No matter who is in our way.”

As the Banshee Queen spoke, the room seemed to become colder and darker. Her ghostly aura began to seep out of her undead body as her eyes burned brighter with seething, barely restrained anger. Despite her even, hushed tone, the room echoes with the power of her unearthly voice. She appeared to be on the verge of letting out a banshee cry and reducing the entire room to dust.

However, despite death quite literally staring her in the face, Jaina didn’t cower, tremble or even flinch. She simply looked at the banshee with the same understanding look she gave since this meeting began.

“Of course,” Jaina replied. “You and your people deserve justice for the atrocities inflicted upon them.”

Sylvanas remained silent for a moment as she began to draw her dark power back within herself. Light and heat began to fill the room once more.

“And what if your fellow Alliance members disagree?” Sylvanas asked. “What if they simply see my people and I as a blight same as the Scourge? A mistake of nature that needs to be corrected. An affront to the memories of their lost loved ones. We’ve already tried appealing the Alliance and they’ve made it very clear that they want us dead, so I cannot place all our hopes on the idea that you can reason with them.”

Jaina took a moment to consider Sylvanas’ words, tapping her spent quill against the parchment. Cynical as her words were, they weren’t inaccurate. There were plenty of those in the Alliance who would rather the Forsaken would be put back in their graves. Mercy killing, they’d call it. Despite her promise to Sylvanas, she had to contend with the fact that there was a very good chance the Alliance just would not listen.

Still, she turned her gaze back to Sylvanas, resolve still strong in her ocean blue eyes. “Well, if I cannot ensure your acceptance into the Alliance then I can most certainly guarantee you a place among the Horde.”

Sylvanas blinked. “Excuse me?”

“The Warchief, Thrall, and I are on friendly terms. We’ve worked together plenty of times to ensure peace between our factions. He listens to me and trusts my judgement. If I tell him about you and explain your situation to him, he will welcome you into the Horde with open arms.”  
Sylvanas remained silent for a moment as she processed Jaina’s words. A small, almost wicked semblance of a smile curled upon her lips. “Keeping ears in both camps I see,” she said. “Lady Proudmoore. It may be very possible that I have underestimated you.”

That remark earned a smile from Jaina. A smile Sylvanas did not expect to see from her today. The uncertainty began to creep back from the back of her mind.

The mage made some final notes onto her scroll before rolling it up. “So, I will send word to the High King and the Warchief, tell them what you’ve told me, and you will likely hear from whichever leader wants you first. Does that sound acceptable?”

”... It shall suffice,” Sylvanas said plainly.

Jaina placed the scroll in her desk and put aside her quill. “Very well. I suppose that means our business is concluded for the day.”

“Indeed.” Sylvanas began to stand up with the intent of exiting the room without another word. She got what she came for. She needed to head back before her conflicting feelings took a hold of her.

“Excellent! Would you care for a drink?”

That made Sylvanas pause. ”... What?”

Jaina flicked her wrist and a dash of arcane shaped by her will conjured a pair of wine glasses. “A drink? That is... unless you are incapable of it. I didn’t want to assume.”

Sylvanas frowned. This wasn’t something she was prepared to deal with. Her instincts told her to just leave the room and return to the Undercity as quickly as possible. Not to entertain this farce.

”... I have the capacity to drink, yes,” Sylvanas replied, despite her instincts.

“Wonderful!” Jaina exclaimed with genuine glee. She reached down to a lower drawer and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Remember this?” She asked. “It was the bottle we shared that night in Dalaran. The night with the meteor shower.”

Sylvanas’ brow furrowed. “Jaina, what are you doing?”

“You said so yourself. Our business is concluded for the day. Now we can simply catch up.” Jaina had finished pouring the contents of the bottle into one of the glasses before handing it to Sylvanas. The elf took it begrudgingly. Jaina filled her own cup and rose it for a toast.

“To a promising future?” She proposed.

Sylvans said nothing and simply drank. Her tongue could not taste the wine as it passed down her throat yet she felt... something. A memory of the taste? An echo of the sensation. Whatever it was, it was making her feel off balance and she didn’t like it.

Jaina pulled her glass from her lips and simply smiled at Sylvanas. “Mmm, I forgot how good this was. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion”

“I’d hardly call whatever this is special,” Sylvanas replied as coldly as she could muster.

Jaina met the banshee’s harsh expression with a soft one. “Hmm, alright then. Perhaps some music will lighten the atmosphere.” She waved her pointer finger about in a circular motion, the faint blue of arcane glowing at the tip. On the other side of the room, her power was winding up a music box that had escaped Sylvanas’ notice. Once it finished winding, the music began to play. Soft, gentle familiar music.

Sylvanas’ ears flicked at the sound. She turned to face the music box “This is..”

“Our first dance at the Silvermoon ball,” Jaina finished, her smile growing ever wider.

Her glee was met only with an unamused glare.

"Is this how you intend to win me over?" Sylvanas asked snidely. "Getting me swept up in nostalgia and hoping we both just pretend that nothing has changed?"

"That depends," Jaina shrugged. "Is it working?"

The banshee was silent. "... You're impossible."

“So I’ve been told,” Jaina came around from behind the desk and took one of Sylvanas' hands in her own, not even reacting to how cold it must have been. “Dance with me.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Very. Now come.”

Jaina pulled Sylvanas to the center of the room. They assumed the position of a waltz, Jaina allowing Sylvanas to lead. Despite her better judgement screaming in her brain to just leave, Sylvanas took the first step of the dance and before long, they were going through the motions.

Smooth, graceful motions to and fro as they twirled around the room to the music. The air of familiarity began to fill the cluttered office. In that moment, if they cut the outside world out of their mind, it quite nearly felt like it did back then.

Sylvanas tensed up and looked at Jaina with the coldest look her confused visage could muster. “Jaina, you cannot be foolish enough to truly believe we could ever be what we once were again. Not after everything that’s happened.”

Jaina looked downward, her lips pursed as if she were sorting out a puzzle in her mind. “Well then... I guess we’ll just have to be something new. Something certainly different and unfamiliar to the both of us, but something that could be just as good as what we were.”

Sylvanas’ frown contorted into a snarl. “Stop playing stupid. You know that’s impossible.”

Jaina simply arched a brow at her dance partners harsh words. ”... Tell me Sylvanas. Have you ever met Archimonde?”

Sylvanas blinked at yet another question she did not expect. “I... witnessed his arrival to this world in Dalaran,” she answered.

“I met him at the summit of Mount Hyjal,” Jaina replied. “I saw him in all his bountiful, seemingly endless power. And you know what? I also saw him die. I saw him and his unstoppable army of undead and demons vanquished on the battlefield. I helped make that happen.”

Sylvanas could feel the pride just radiating off the girl in her hold. “And do you know what else I saw? I saw humans and orcs working side by side for the first time in history. I saw hardened warriors put aside their differences with the common goal of saving this world. I saw unity and kinship being born out of the chaos of war. So, with all due respect, Lady Sylvanas, don’t tell me what’s impossible. I’ve seen the impossible happen, and I’m convinced I will see it happen many times again.”

Sylvanas’ mind scrambled for a response to Jaina’s determined declaration. The war within her raged harder than ever before. She wanted to believe Jaina, but the thought of daring to hope nearly made her tremble in fear. ”... You really think we can make... whatever this is work?”

“We’re still dancing aren’t we?”

Sylvanas looked down at the both of them. They were indeed still dancing, and her ear shifted to confirm that the music box had long been spent without her noticing.

Jaina gently cupped the Banshee’s cold, cheek, imploring her to meet her soft gaze. “I know why you’re acting this way. You’re afraid I will abandon you. You think that if you open yourself up to me, that I will cast you aside because you think you’re no longer worthy of love. But that’s not true. And I’m telling you right now, Sylvanas Windrunner, that I will never turn you away. I want to help you. I want to help you secure a future for your people. I want to help you get your justice against Arthas. I want you to reach a point where you no longer have to fear the idea of love. Because I still love you.”

Sylvanas had no words. She simply trembled in Jaina’s arms. Seeing this, the mage dropped the waltz and pulled Sylvanas into a proper hug. She rubbed the cloak on her back soothingly and whispered softly into her elven ears.

“It’s okay. Just let me in. Don’t shut me out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that went surprisingly well.
> 
> But will it last?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exchange of letters.

Dearest Sylvanas,  
I hope this letter finds you and your new kingdom well. I've heard that your negotiations with the Horde have went well and Warchief Thrall has accepted you among their ranks. I'm elated to hear this news, though I can say with confidence that I was never worried. The orcs have very recently broken the shackles of their demon masters themselves so I had a feeling they could sympathize with your people's plight.

Still, I do regret that the Alliance has appeared to shun you still. I know that the wounds of the Scourge's attack are still fresh in the minds of many, nevertheless it's baffling how they can just shun their brothers and sisters over something they have no control over. Perhaps when the peace between our sides has lasted longer, the Alliance shall become more accepting of you and your people.

Speaking of which, I thought you would like to know that I was recently visited by your sister Vereesa and her husband Archmage Rhonin. I haven't told them about you yet as I'm unsure if you would want that. Would you like me to tell them? I understand if you wouldn't, but I do sincerely think Vereesa would be elated to know that you're ok, relatively speaking. I know I am.

Let me know whenever you can grace Theramore with your presence again? I still have some more of that wine from last time.

I eagerly await your response.

Love,  
Jaina.

Dear Lady Proudmoore,

First of all, I must commend you on the enchantment you placed upon your letter. The parchment withstood the blade of my Dreadguards and yet opened for me with unspoken ease. It's good to know you understand the necessity of our correspondence being discreet. With that in mind, I'm trusting that whatever is disclosed in these letters remains between us. I don't think I need to remind you that attempting to use any information I share against me would be an egregious mistake and I will ensure you answer for it.

Secondly, I shall admit I am indebted to you for your part in bringing the Forsaken into the Horde. You clearly have had an influence on Warchief Thrall as I spoke to him in Orgrimmar. Even if it was a guarantee as you suggest, there's no telling how long it would have taken. Now I can safely begin long term plans for the Forsaken's future.

I shall concede that morale is quite a serious issue. Most of the undead I've liberated wander aimlessly like lost children. Unable to come to grips with their new state of being. Ruling over a new kingdom is next to impossible if the subjects themselves wish not to carry on. To say that this will be a long adjustment period is a gross understatement. Even now with the strides we have made, I fear this kingdom will fall before it even has the chance to pull itself from the ruins of Lorderon.

Also, yes. I would very much appreciate it if you say nothing to Vereesa. That is for me to deal with. Not you.

I cannot guarantee we will have time to see each other in person for the foreseeable future, but I will expect you to hold onto that wine if and when the opportunity arises.

Regards,  
Sylvanas.

Dearest Sylvanas,  
I assure you that what we discuss in our personal correspondence remains strictly between the two of us. Nothing you say to me will be used against the Forsaken or the Horde at large. You can be certain of that and not have to start these letters with "thinly" veiled threats in the future.

As flattering as it is, I assure you that you are not indebted to me for anything. Helping you and your people is the least I could do after all the hardships you faced from the Scourge. I only wish I could do more.

In regards to your people's morale, I could certainly offer a proposal. Perhaps you could throw a party? Jubilation is certainly capable of improving a peoples morale, if not distract them from their strife for a while. I understand why you might be aversed to this idea personally. I just believe reminding your subjects that their new lives can be more than their current suffering will be just what they need to come together. Besides, Hallows Eve is just around the corner.

Let me know how it goes. I always enjoy hearing from you.

Love,  
Jaina.

Dear Lady Proudmore,

While I can certainly chastise you for your proposal about Hallow's Eve being rather insensitive to my kingdom of undead, I must admit, your proposal of a celebration was not entirely without merit.

We have inaugurated a new annual event called the Wickerman Festival. We erect a giant wickerman and light it on fire as a celebration of our liberation from the Scourge. I gave a speech about the victories we shared and the victories that are to come. 

The turnout was much larger than expected and I've even seen a spark of pride in their previously hopeless undead eyes. Where before there was doubt, now I feel confidence in my Forsaken. We will make our own path in this world and will exact vengeance upon the monster that cursed us.

It seems that once again I owe you for your assistance, although I certainly won't object to your desire to help us further. The Dark Lady shall always reward those who serve her well.

Regards,  
Sylvanas

Dearest Sylvanas,

I'm delighted to hear the celebration idea went well. You'll have to invite me to the next Wickerman Festival. I'm sure it's quite a sight to behold and I would love to hear that speech of yours. You've always had such a commanding presence. It's nothing short of alluring.

I suppose it would be only fair that I tell you what has been happening here in Theramore since you've last visited. Sadly there really isn't anything all that exciting to report. When you face the apocalypse shoulder to shoulder with the most unlikely of allies, everything afterwards feels rather mundane.

I suppose the most noteworthy thing is that the Kaldorei have officially joined the Alliance. They even provided me a bodyguard as a sign of good faith. I never saw myself being one of the Alliance's most valued dignitaries in need of protection but I'm sure we can both safely say that fate works in mysterious ways. Her name in Pained. She is nice, though very protective. I can barely step on the mainland of Kalimdor without her getting twitchy with her blade. 

I'm not sure if the two of you will get along exactly, but I'm sure when she realizes how important you are to me, she'll at least be civil. I'm sure you will make an effort to do the same.

I suppose we'll worry about that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime, I'm hoping the new stability you've found for your people will afford you more time to be away. I've been missing you more and more as time goes on.

Love,  
Jaina

Dear Lady Proudmoore,

I must advise you to never attempt to come to the Undercity. I mean it. I cannot guarantee your safety here. The only humans my Forsaken see anymore are those accursed Scarlet Crusaders who are constantly hounding us seeking to wash our 'corruption' from the land. They will not take the sight of a living human very well. 

It would be far more ideal for me to simply come to you. Even with your new watchdog, it would be safer for everyone involved.

I shall see you soon,  
Sylvanas.

Jaina smiled at the letter in her hand. She smiled at every letter she received from Sylvanas. Sure they weren't as flowery and explicitly romantic as they were before the third war, but the mage certainly understood why and she didn't fault her for it. Still, she couldn't help but find it odd that this particular letter was so short and yet so open ended. 

She didn't have long to ponder it before she heard a sudden commotion at her front door. Opening the door she found Sylvanas pinned to the wall by Pained with a blade held to her throat. The night elf's expression was one of ruthlessness whilst the banshee's was simply one of annoyance.

"Pained!" Jaina cried out. "Stand down!"

Pained's ears flicked as she immediately dropped Sylvanas, though stood between her and the mage. "Lady Jaina! I saw this creature attempt to enter your room unannounced. I had to intervene. She-"

"Understandable, but I'm telling you that it's fine. You can let her in."

"... But... Jaina,"

"Pained, I've decided that Sylvanas is my guest. Please step aside and let her in," Jaina said, her tone even, but her eyes hard on the bodyguard. 

Eventually, Pained relented and turned, allowing Sylvanas to step through. The banshee's scowl had turned into a smug smile. Jaina closed the door, locking it, before turning around and letting out an exasperated sigh.

"You could have told me that you were coming sooner," Jaina chastised.

"I believe I told you as soon as I could," Sylvanas teased. "It's hardly my fault that I'm faster than your couriers." She sat upon Jaina's desk, her crimson gaze never leaving Jaina and her satisfied grin never fading. "Now I believe there was some promise of wine?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff before we get to the juicey stuff.


	4. Chapter 4

Things were stable. The non aggression pact between the Alliance and Horde remained intact. The Scarlet Crusade attacks were annoying but manageable and the Banshee Queen had an outlet in the form of an old friend for whenever the stresses of leadership became too insufferable. Things were fine. Not wonderful. Not terrible. Just alright.

Nevertheless, Sylvanas remained vigilant. For just because everything seemed fine at the moment, it did not mean the next catastrophe was not nearing from beyond the horizon. The Lich King was still a threat impatiently waiting to unleash his might upon Azeroth at any given moment. There was no telling when the Alliance would begin their next crusade to purge all those they deemed corrupt from the land. The momentary peace did nothing to make the Banshee feel less like the prey of some circling beast. She despised the feeling. She had to be prepared. Her Forsaken could not afford to be stamped out before they completed their mission. They had to be ready.

Which of course meant accounting for every possible threat.

A part of Sylvanas didn't like the fact that she had been spying on Jaina. It was a larger part of her than she was willing to admit. But the fact remained that her... relationship with the young mage left her emotionally compromised. Knowing that meant she couldn't make the exception. An ally was just an enemy who hasn't striked yet. No matter how unlikely it may have seemed, she had to be ready to deal with Proudmoore.

Her time with Jaina had given her plenty of information on the younger woman's tactical thinking and weaknesses, though it gave her no clue as to when she would be ready to strike. She could only snoop for so much information with that accursed bodyguard breathing down her neck. In time Sylvanas realized she would have to search for answers elsewhere.

"My Queen," Dark Ranger Anya said, taking a knee as she stepped towards Sylvanas.

"Report, Ranger. What did you find in Kul Tiras?" Sylvanas asked.

"Nothing concrete, your majesty," Anya said. "It would seem that the people openly talk about her. Her home in Boralus keep had offered no incriminating evidence either."

Sylvanas retained her unreadable poise, although her unmoving heart had begun to twinge with a sliver of guilt. Kul Tiras was Jaina's beloved home. She was her nation's pride and joy. Sylvanas was certain that if any evidence were to exist, it would be there. Perhaps if there was indeed no evidence, than Sylvanas was wrong to have ever doubted the mage after all.

"Although... there was something."

Sylvanas' ears shot up to attention as she looked down at the kneeling ranger. "Something?"

"... A song."

 

Jaina had just finished fussing over the contents of the room. Sylvanas was coming for a visit and she wanted to make sure that her chambers were nice, but not so nice that her efforts would be oh so evident to the undiscerning eye, much less the eye of the Banshee Queen. Yes, Lady Proudmoore was one of the few leaders in Azeroth who could worry if an event was casual enough. 

Still, she knew Sylvanas wouldn't mind. The risen elf always came to visit her and her alone, any pretense of delegations stayed on the other side of the door. A door that she suddenly heard knocking on. All but leaping to the other side of the room, Jaina opened the door with the biggest smile on her face.

"Lady Sylvanas!" Jaina greeted cheerfully.

"Lady Jaina," Sylvanas nodded far more cooley. "I couldn't help but notice you're short one overbearing Kaldorei.”

"Oh yes. I sent Pained on a mission when I heard you were coming. Figured you would appreciate the breathing room... eh, relatively speaking."

"Hmm, much appreciated," Sylvanas said with a small smile.

From there things started to play out as they normally did, Jaina let Sylvanas into her chambers, they began with simple small talk, Jaina offered her a drink which Sylvanas often accepted. They would discuss what was new since they last saw each other and Jaina gave small acts of physical affection, which Sylvanas pretended not to enjoy. It was familiar to the point of being formulaic, but it was a certainty. Something Jaina needed far more of these days.

Today though, there was a slight deviation.

"Ah yes," Sylvanas began. "There was something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Oh, well what is it?" Jaina asked, curiosity apparent on her face.

"As you know, the Forsaken have been making efforts to bolster our navy. My dark rangers and I were taking our new flagship out for a test sail when at a neutral port we encountered some Kul Tirans."

"... Oh." Jaina commented, her smile flickering for just a moment before she reinforced it.

"Yes. They were civil enough as it was neutral territory, although there was something about them that caught my interest. A song they were singing."

"A song?"

"Yes. One of those sea shanties your people are known for. What was strange was that I didn't recognize it. I distinctly remember the shanties you've sung to me before yet this was not one of them."

"Huh... must be a new one," Jaina suggested, her enthused expression becoming more strained.

"Perhaps... would you like me to sing it and see if you can remember it?"

"Um... sure! By all means. You know I love it when you sing."

"The feeling is mutual. Now how did it go? .... Ah yes," Sylvanas cleared her throat and began humming. The melodic tones of emboldened by her powerful voice. After humming a few bars, Sylvanas began to sing.

"Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea."  
"Beware," I heard him cry.  
His words carried upon the ocean breeze,  
As he sank beneath the tide.

Those blood-soaked shores of Kalimdor,  
Where sailors fought and died.  
The Admiral fell at Theramore,  
because she left his side.

Jaina would have been enthralled by the otherworldly beauty of Sylvanas' singing if the words hadn't begun filling her with dread. She knew of this song. She knew what this song used to be. A song that her father would sing to her when she was a little girl. She knew what this song had become, and why.

As the song carried on, Jaina's entire body began to slump in growing misery. Every word, every verse, another needle in her heart. She looked up at Sylvanas, her crimson eyes neutral and detached as she sang. She simply observed the sulking mage as she sang. Jaina knew that Sylvanas had realized what this song was about. Who it was about.

 

I heard, I heard, across a moonlit sea,  
The old voice warning me,  
"Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea",  
"Beware, beware..."

".... Of me," Jaina finished. 

"So it's true," Sylvanas said.

Jaina took a moment to gather herself, the pain of those memories threatening to spill from her moistened eyes. ".... After the third war... My father, the Admiral... came to Kalimdor to find me.... when he discovered the Horde was here too, he took command of Theramore and prepared for war. .... We... had just established real peace. I couldn't let him jeopardize that. The Horde had every right to defend themselves!"

"So you let them kill your father," Sylvanas said.

Jaina was silent for a moment. ".... Yes."

Sylvanas let the confession hang in the air for a moment. ".... I see." With that the banshee stood from her seat and made her way to the door.

Eyes wide at the act, Jaina scrambled after her and grabbed the risen elves armored forearm. "Sylvanas wait! I... It wasn't as if I was trying to keep this from you! I.... I just didn't think you needed to know. I didn't think you'd be upset about this."

Sylvanas didn't turn around to look at Jaina. ".... I'm not upset. I just understand that I cannot trust you now."

"What!?" the mage asked incredulously.

Sylvanas turned back slightly, her crimson gaze sharp and focused. "I heard you talk about the Admiral. I met the man. You adored him. And then you let him die."

"It was for the greater good, Sylvanas!" Jaina countered.

"And what will happen when this 'greater good' calls for the death of the Forsaken?" Sylvanas asked.

Jaina blinked, her eyes widening as Sylvanas' rationale suddenly clicked in her mind.

Sylvanas turned completely to face Jaina. "You told me to trust you. You said that you had achieved the impossible and could do it again for me and my people. You.... you told me you loved me-"

"I DO love y-" Jaina was cut off by a single clawed finger from Sylvanas' gauntlet pressed to her lips.

"-And then I discover you threw someone you loved to the wolves for the sake of peace. So, what happens when the Alliance finally decided to reclaim Lorderon from the 'evil corruption' plaguing it? What happens when the Horde up and abandons us when we've become a liability? Will you stand aside as we're wiped from the face of the earth?"

"Sylvanas, that won't happen!"

"Do not take me for a fool, Proudmoore! I know how the Forsaken are perceived by the rest of Azeroth. The only future they have is what I can secure for them. That requires me to know who my enemies are." She turned back to the door. "Today, I understand that completely now."

Jaina held onto the bashee's forearm, her tears finally spilling over. "Sylvanas please. Please don't throw away what we have out of fear."

Sylvanas was silent, her eyes fixed on the door the mage attempted to pull her away from. "...We don't have anything. What we had died with me. You're just some naive girl who can't admit that to herself." With that, she reached for the door handle with her free hand. 

Jaina pulled her back almost violently, her eyes shimmering with arcane power and her mouth contorted into a sneer. "Say that to my face! If you truly believe there is nothing left between us, then look me in the eyes when you tell me!"

Sylvanas was shaking, a storm of conflict in her mind causing her dark aura to seep from her being. Finally, she yanked her hand free before glaring at Jaina. Her crimson gaze glowing like hot coals as her dark power poured into the room.

"I have NOTHING to prove to you, Proudmoore!" 

Whirling back, Sylvanas knocked the door off its hinges with one strike from her hand before storming off down the corridor. By the time Jaina made a move to stop her, the banshee was already out of sight.

Silently, she levitated the broken door off of the floor and began to fix it. A simple reparation spell coupled with a new protection ward for a good measure. When the door was secure, she leaned her back onto it and sank to the floor, weeping openly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants emotions for lunch? No one? TOO BAD


	5. Chapter 5

"You're looking particularly miserable today," said Varimathras.

The dreadlord found Sylvanas alone in her throne room going over reports. She looked up from the parchment in her hand to give her advisor an annoyed glare. "Unless you have something to report, I suggest you take yourself elsewhere Varimathras."

"Ever since you've returned from Theramore, your aura had a distinct melancholy air to it. More so than usual," he noted. "You usually return from that place feeling almost chipper, sickeningly so”

"When I require need of your observation skills, I will ask for them. Now if you'll excuse me-"

"So things with the human welp have turned sour, have they?" he asked with a grin.

Sylvanas' crimson eyes fixed on him, burning with barely contained anger. "Watch it, dreadlord," she growled.

"Now now, there's no need for aggression," Varimathras said, clawed hands lifting defensively. "I simply believe that this is for the best. The hu- Lady Proudmoore was making you soft."

Sylvanas said nothing and returned to the report in her hand, though she was clearly not reading it.

"She was only distracting you to keep you from doing your duties as queen. To lower your guard so that she would betray you.... just like she betrayed her father."

Sylvanas visibly bristled at that. Of course he of all creatures would discover that.

"Well, it matters not anymore. She's gone now. You never needed her, my lady. You have your Forsaken. You have your dark Rangers .... you have me." As he spoke, he brought on of his claws up to her face, the back of his long black claws stroking her cheek almost tenderly. His emerald fel burning gaze glowed with fondness and hunger. his lips curled upward to reveal a full toothy grin.

Before he could utter anything else, the armored hand of Sylvanas swiftly grabbed his wrist and twisted away from her, the claws of her gauntlets digging into him. "Leave. Now. Before I make a necklace from those fingers."

Varimathras yelped in pain, biting back curses until Sylvanas finally let go of his hand. His gaze burning impotently with frustration. ".... As you wish, my lady." he said in a whisper before stepping out of the room. 

Once she could no longer hear his cloven hoof steps, Sylvanas let out an exasperated sigh and sank into her throne. As frustrating a slimeball as Varimathras was to deal with, he wasn't entirely wrong. Jaina was making her weak. A fact she had an easier time admitting to herself when the young mage wasn't around. She offered honeyed promises and fond memories to get the banshee to relax. To allow herself to be vulnerable. She couldn't allow herself to be. Not for a minute.

Varimathras was exactly what she needed. True he was conniving and manipulative but she understood that, and he was always cowardly enough to be brought back into line. Above all else, she could rely on him to tell the truth when she needed it, as the truth was seldom ever kind.

Even still, there was that voice in the back of her head screaming at her to go back and talk to Jaina. To work things out. To remember all the things the mage had done for her since they renewed their correspondence. She often envisioned that voice to be that of the Ranger General she used to be. A fool who still believed in honor and true love. Foolish idealism that cost her everything. And like a true fool, that voice only got louder insider her mind as time went on. 

It didn't matter, she could keep it down here, in the Undercity. It was dark. It was miserable. It was real.

She shook her head, ridding herself of these thoughts. There was no more time to reflect, there was still much to do. She had to oversee the creation of their deadliest weapon. She had a revenge scheme to plan. She had a kingdom to rule.

 

Sylvanas was pacing in the halls of Grommash Hold. To say she was furious couldn’t be more of an understatement. At first, everything had been going better than she could have hoped. The campaign against the Lich King had just begun and her latest, deadliest weapon was ready for it. Then, the Wrathgate. Then the utter betrayal of that Varimathras and Putress. Then, to finish up this conga line of misery, the Banshee Queen had to flee from her own kingdom. 

As she paced through the halls, Warchief Thrall was supposedly rallying their forces to take the Undercity back from Varimathras and his demons. To be honest, Sylvanas was almost certain that he was instead just sitting on his thumb from how long this was taking. Every second they dawdled, yet another of her loyal Forsaken getting captured, killed or worse by the demonic traitor. She was extremely tempted to just go rally champions and retake the city herself.

Suddenly, Sylvanas was distracted from her ceaseless grumbling when she heard a commotion in the throne room. Stepping briskly, she reentered to see what was going on and-

Jaina.

She stood there before a portal, surrounded by Kor'kron guards who had only just begun to lower their weapons on Thrall’s command. The magical glow coming from the portal made Proudmoore look breathtaking. Sylvanas hadn’t seen the mage in…. Gods, how long had it been? Years? It was hard to tell in undeath. It made time move strangely.

The banshee just stood there in the shadows, silently. Jaina hadn’t seen her yet. Good. She would have had no idea what to say anyway. The young mage’s attention was at Thrall. She hadn’t immediately heard what they were talking about as her mind was still entranced by the sight of Proudmoore.

“What happened at the Wrathgate,” Thrall began. “It was a betrayal from within.”

Sylvanas blinked, the words finally beginning to register. This was about the Wrathgate, of course it was. The Alliance was no doubt furious. It was then Sylvanas stepped out of the shadows to make herself known.

“Lady Proudmore,” she began, noting the look of surprise on Jaina’s face. “The Warchief speaks true. This subterfuge was set in motion by Varimathras and Grand Apothecary Putress. It was not the Horde’s doing. As the combined Alliance and Horde forces began their assault on the Wrathgate, an uprising broke out in the Undercity. Varimathras and hordes of his demonic brethren attacked. Hundreds of my people were slain in the coup …. I barely escaped with my life.”

“The Horde has lost the Undercity,” Thrall finished. “We now prepare to lay siege to the city and bring the perpetrators of this unforgivable crime to justice! We will make this right Jaina. Go and tell your king all you have learned.”

Even as the Warchief spoke, Jaina’s gaze was still fixed on Sylvanas. A flash of emotions were seen in her ocean blue eyes. Surprise, longing, a strange mixture of joy and sadness, before they were concealed behind the veil of professionalism.

“I will deliver this information to King Wrynn, Thrall. But…” Jaina paused. “Bolvar was like a brother to him. In the King's absence, Bolvar kept the Alliance united. He found strength for our people in our darkest hours. He watched over Anduin as if he were his own. I fear the rage will consume him, Thrall. I remain hopeful that reason will prevail, but we must be ready for the worst.... or war.” 

With that, the mage had turned to step towards the portal from where she came. She stopped just shy of it, turning back to Thrall and Sylvanas. “Farewell Warchief…. Lady Sylvanas. I pray that when next we meet, it will be as allies.” She stepped through the portal, the magical gate closing behind her. 

Sylvanas remained silent. She had seen Jaina again for the first time in… she still couldn’t tell how long, and almost immediately she remembered why she broke ties with her in the first place. The peace between the Alliance and Horde was always delicate and bound to fall apart sooner or later. When that happened Jaina was bound to pick a side…. And she knew it would not be hers.

“Kor’Kron! Prepare transport to the Undercity!”

 

It was done. The Undercity had been retaken. The demonic forces of the Burning Legion were purged from its walls and Varimathras, the treacherous vermin, laid dead at Sylvanas’ feet. The Banshee Queen had fought harder than she had ever remembered to take back what was hers, and she had several lacerations to prove it. Nevertheless, the Horde was victorious. SHE was victorious! 

Thrall had just finished giving a speech about the glory of the Horde that Sylvanas likely would have heard if her ears stopped ringing sooner. She turned to see him enter the royal quarter before turning back to face her.

“Dark Lady, join me! You have fought hard and spilled much blood for this right! The Royal Quarter belongs to you!”

In response, Sylvanas leaped gracefully from the doorway to the center of the quarter despite her injuries and bowed lithley at Thrall. “Such will be the fate of all enemies of the Horde Warchief. Now we must deal with the wretch, Putress.”

Just as she made way to the doorway once more, Sylvanas caught the sounds of horns.

“... Alliance Horns? Stay on guard!” Thrall bellowed. Just then a cavalry of Alliance soldiers stormed the Quarter, the unmistakable mug of King Wyrnn leading the helm. 

Almost immediately, the human began his speech regarding the ‘disgusting corruption’ of the horde. Drivel that Sylvanas had tuned out just as quickly. How utterly typical it was for this buffon to feel so vindicated in his little crusade. To treat his cloistered, homogenous faction as the purity intended to wipe the filth of the Horde from the face of Azeroth. She had little patience for the Alliance’s way of thinking when she was alive and she had less patience for it in death. She said nothing to his self righteous spiel, she simply poised herself to strike. She was battered and bruised from her fight with Varimathras, but she was still standing, and she was more than willing to kill another man with delusions of grandeur.

“Charge! For the Alliance!” Varian bellowed. The two sides bolted for the other, weapons drawn and the intent to kill in their eyes, until.

“No Varian! Stop!” Jaina cried out.

Sylvanas’ world became ice. Locked in place, all she could do was look around to see Alliance and Horde alike motionless, encased frozen, cold crystal just as she was. The only exception was Jaina herself. She looked from one side to the other, her eyes settling on Banshee as she spoke. 

“It did not need to be like this,” she said softly, her eyes welling with tears. 

She and the other members of the alliance vanished in a flash of light. The ice containing Sylvanas, Thrall and their champions soon began to melt away. Sylvanas was speechless. Unable to find the words to explain what had just happened. 

Jaina had… protected them…. Protected her.

 

The Undercity was soon cleansed of the carnage that littered it, bodies of traitors and fallen heroes alike were taken to the apothecaries. Their parts would serve the Forsaken well.

Sylvanas remained silent throughout most of it all, talking only to issue orders to her champions. And to regard Thrall when she spoke to her before departing, not that she listened to whatever it was he said. She still couldn’t quite fathom what it was that had happened. She was certain that Proudmoore would have left her to rot when the time came. That was why she withdrew her trust from her …. Was she…

A soft rapping at the entrance echoed through the Royal Quarter where the Banshee Queen resided. It was soon accompanied by the sound of a drawn bowstring as Sylvanas instinctively armed herself. She lowered her weapon when she saw who it was.

“... Jaina?” 

“Surprised?” The mage asked, a small smile on her face doing nothing to hide her apparent dejection. “I suppose today hasn’t gone quite how any of us expected.” She stepped closer to Sylvanas, however cautiously as she still had her bow in hand. Jaina’s eyes fell upon the tears in her armor and gashes across her body. “... Are you alright.”

It was a moment before Sylvanas could gather her thoughts into something more coherent. “Lucky shots from the traitor,” she replied, placing her bow down. “I will recover.”

“You should get your apothecaries in to tend to your wounds.” Jaina said, worry clear in her voice. 

“They are busy elsewhere. The Forsaken suffered a heavy blow today.” Sylvanas adjusted her posture, steeling her will and allowing the cold power of her banshee’s voice to saturate her words. “Why are you here, Proudmoore? Come to finish what your king has started?”

“What? No! I came to see if you were alright!” Jaina said, almost indignantly. “I was worried about you.”

Any sarcastic or bitter remark died in her through. Her eyes cast to the floor. “... Why did you intervene?”

“They would have killed you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“And why not? What is my wellbeing to you?”

“EVERYTHING!” Jaina snapped. The banshee flinched at the sudden outburst. The mage looked taken aback by it herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before stepping closer to Sylvanas.

“I made you a promise that I would help ensure a future for you and your people. That you would live to take your revenge on the Scourge. I intend to keep that promise.”

“...You have no reason to. The Alliance wants the Horde decimated. My Forsaken especially. You are well within your right to break that promise.”

“I don’t want to,” Jaina said plainly, risking bodily harm as she placed her hands on Sylvanas. “... I know you don’t trust me. I know your undeath has taught you to trust your fear above everything else, but I want you to know that no matter what you believe, I will always look out for you.”

Sylvanas trembled slightly. “.... I want to trust you… but I worry I will put my people at risk for doing so.”

Jaina’s expression softened slightly. “And who put it in your head that you’re risking anything to trust me?”

“Var- … oh …” She saw the dangerously amused smile that graced Jaina’s full, perfect lips. “.... Shut up.”

The mage chuckled fondly, pulling Sylvanas closer. The risen elf wasn’t sure if she could actually feel Jaina’s embrace or simply remembered how it felt. Either way, she didn’t want it to stop.

“... I suppose I have been rather foolish these past…. Gods, as it truly been years?”

“One and a half to be precise,” Jaina corrected. “... I missed you.” 

A clawed gauntlet came up to stroke the younger woman’s cheek. “... I missed you too. And I believe you now. I should have known you wouldn’t abandon me.”

Jaina’s eyes began to glisten with tears, not of sorrow but of joyous relief. “Oh, Sylvanas.” 

“Tears, Lady Proudmoore? Come now. I am not deserving of your te-”

Sylvanas was silenced. Not with a spell or an attack, but with a kiss. The first kiss they shared since Sylvanas still drew breath.

Her crimson eyes were wide. Jaina’s lips were so soft. So sweet. Belore, she had forgotten how wonderful they felt. This was no memory. She could actually feel this. The banshee queen melted in the embrace, her arms wrapping around the younger woman as she basked in the kiss.

It was relatively chaste, but filled with passion that after years of suppression and longing had finally been released. Jaina clung to her tighter as her lips refused to part from Sylvanas’. It had been so long. They wanted to savor the moment. Alas, the mage still required air to breath. 

Pulling their lips away, the two remained in each other's arms. Sylvanas watched as Jaina panted for air. Her cheeks were beet red and her body was molten hot against her own. Her scent filled the banshee’s nostrils. She was full to bursting with life. It was intoxicating.

“Hehe, chilly,” Jaina said playfully, motioning to Sylvanas’ slightly bruised lips.

“Such is undeath,” Sylvanas replied coolly. “... Is that a problem?”

“Oh, no! Of course not. Just… Something to get use to. I… I’d really like to kiss you again.”

Sylvanas smiled. “Then do so.”

And she did.

Again, and again.

After a while of that, the two sat down, the euphoria of being together again still hung in the air around them.

“So…. what do we do now?” Jaina asked.

“Now? We cease with the distractions. With the bickering. We get our respective factions in gear and continue our mission in the Frozen North. We bang down the doors to Icecrown and take our vengeance on the man who wronged us.”

Jaina smiled and leaned her head on the Banshee’s shoulder. “As you wish, my love.”

Sylvanas felt the words she wanted to say get caught in her throat. Even after everything they had just overcome, she still wasn’t ready to bring those words to existence. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a time skip here. Anyways, WOTLK shenanigans next!


	6. Chapter 6

The campaign for Northrend, barring the incident at the Wrathgate, was resuming as well as it could. The best champions and military minds that the Alliance and the Horde had to offer were stationed in the frozen north for the assault. State of the art weapons and tools were brought on massive naval fleets. Armaments intended to match whatever the Scourge had to throw at them were issued. Tactics and techniques for battle were exchanged freely between each faction. They were as prepared as they could ever be.

They were still missing something. Information. Just how powerful was the Lich King himself? What secrets did he still have? What were his weaknesses? He was strong enough to withstand the bombardment of blight that reigned down upon him which was not encouraging. Furthermore, while their armies were more than capable of dispatching any mindless undead they encountered, replacements were conjured almost faster than they could dispose of them. The Lich King’s power seemed nigh inexhaustible. 

Sylvanas refused to believe that of course, but she needed more information if she was to successfully slay the tyrant that enslaved her and so many others. She needed an opportunity to gather more intelligence. As fate would have it, that opportunity presented itself.

Whilst Garrosh Hellscream amassed the Horde’s forces for a heavy assault against Icecrowns main gates, the banshee's spies located something of interest. A secret entrance on the side of the citadel, leading to a place that, according to them, was called the Halls of Reflection. The name promised a wealth of information and with the massive armies at his doorstep, the Lich King would be distracted. The opportunity was perfect. 

Sylvanas stood before the secret entrance, shoulder to shoulder with her hand picked champions for this task. On her left, Nathanos Blightcaller. Once a simple human farmer that she had encountered in life. Upon seeing potential in him, she decided to train him as a Ranger. In death, Nathanos became a fiercely loyal and deadly assassin ready and willing to do her bidding. On her right, Anevay Darkflare. A warrior who impressed Sylvanas with how fiercely and mightily she defended Quel’Thalas when Arthas attacked. The blood elf's skill had only grown greater in the years since that attack, as did her thirst for vengeance. It was considered unwise for a brash and brutal warrior to be selected for a stealth mission, but Darkflare's strength would be needed for the massive numerical disadvantage they would be up against. With their goal before them and their minds focused, they began to advance on the entrance.

"Dark Lady," Nathanos said, notching his bow, his glowing eyes shooting to the side. "We are not alone."

Sylvanas looked to where Nathanos aimed his weapon, her fingers bracing around her sabre, ready to pull it at a moment's notice. The Dark Lady steeled herself for whatever Scourge monstrosity threatened to approach them. What they saw approaching from behind a steep hill of ice and snow, however, was enough to make Sylvanas blink with surprise.

"Sylvanas?" Jaina asked incredulously. Beside the young mage, now clad in heavier robes due to the cold of the frozen north, was her protective Kaldorei bodyguard Pained, and a human priest that Sylvanas did not recognize.

"...Lady Proudmoore," Sylvanas greeted plainly. "What are you doing here?" 

The two had not seen each other in person since they reconciled in the freshly reclaimed Undercity. Though her outward expression would not display it, the sight of Jaina filled her with something akin to warmth. Sylvanas was happy to see Jaina again, even if the circumstances were less than ideal.

"Our intelligence reports said that there was a secret entrance into the citadel that could offer some promising information," Jaina explained. "I came here with a small team to investigate.”

A small smile curled one side of the banshee's lips. "It would appear that great minds think alike. We are here to do the same.” Anevay tilted her head towards Sylvanas, slightly surprised that the Forsaken Queen had so willingly given an Alliance leader such information. Nathanos seemed far less surprised.

"I see," Jaina replied, her demeanour more relaxed, bordering on casual. "Perhaps we could join our forces and increase our odds of success?"

"A wise proposal," Sylvanas agreed before turning to address her champions. "Blightcaller. Darkflare. Lady Proudmoore and her far less important compatriot over there shall be our allies for this mission. Aid them as you would your own troops."

The two nodded in understanding. With that, the joint party made their way into the Citadel.

 

They traversed deeper into the Fortress, the most prevalent sounds were of Pained and Anevay carving through undead resistance with violent gusto. The narrowed gazes they gave each other suggesting they were in fact competing for the highest kill count. Pained did not feel right being positioned so far away from Jaina, but the almost antagonistic demeanor of the Blood Elf played on her competitive instincts, forcing the two to the front. The priest whose name Sylvanas didn't bother to remember, followed after them, frantically whining about the two elves throwing themselves into danger. With those three distracted and Nathanos focused on picking off any Scourge that made it through the assault, Sylvanas and Jaina had a moment to talk as they brought up the rear.

"... I know this might not be the best time," Jaina whispered to the risen elf, “but it's good to see you."

Sylvanas offered Proudmoore a smirk. "And you didn't have to wait another year and a half. Imagine that."

A small chuckle echoed slightly in the icy corridor they traversed. The levity did not last long, however. It was hard to remain cheerful in such a dreary, desolate place. It was a while more of silence before Jaina spoke again, her expression sobered. "... If we face him here.... what do you intend to do?"

"What I had intended since I was brought into undeath," Sylvanas answered. gripping the hilt of her sabre tightly. "I will destroy him. .... And you?"

Jaina was silent for a moment. ".... I wish to see.... if there is any of the Prince I knew still in there somewhere."

Of flicker of something Jaina almost didn’t catch crossed Sylvanas’ face. Like she was wincing at her words. The look of hurt passed quickly and the banshee put on a familiar sneer. "How unsurprisingly disappointing,” she said, her voice cold and distant. “ You're still holding out a candle for your consort."

"Sylvanas, shut up," Jaina responded, unamused. "You of all people should know it was never like that."

"And what shall happen if you find out there is still some of that so-called 'boyish charm' in the depths of that malevolent tyrant? Will you excuse all he has done to Lorderon? To Quel'Thalas? To me? Will you attempt to bring him back over to the Light!? To just disregard all of his sins?" Sylvanas spoke in little above a whisper, but under her fiery, bordering enraged crimson gaze, she may as well have been screaming her frustration at Jaina.

Jaina was once again silent, her mind busy with carefully choosing her next words. She had only just recently earned back Sylvanas’ trust and affection. She didn’t want to lose it again. Not in this place. Not over Arthas. "... if there is any good in him left.... perhaps we can use that to our advantage."

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes slightly at the reply. "... How so?"

"Perhaps Arthas' influence will compel the Lich King to show restraint should he attack, or let slip some information that can aide us into defeating him,"

Sylvanas pondered Jaina's reasoning. "... Possible, however your strategy is working on the assumption that the boy prince had any benevolence left in his heart before becoming a pawn to the Scourge. Remember that it was a paladin that culled Stratholme. No death knight."

“You know I don’t need remi-”

Jaina’s words were cut short as Sylvanas suddenly gasped in shock, falling to her knees and clutching at her chest as if she were just struck. The mage and her dark ranger rushed to her side.

"Sylvanas!" Jaina cried out, panic etched onto her face. "What's wrong?"

Sylvanas hissed in pain and spoke through clenched teeth. "... I ... I can feel the blade... it's close... WE are close. Be ready for anything."

A wave of several emotions passed over Jaina's face before she nodded in understanding. With the silent consent of Nathanos, she helped the banshee up to her feet as they neared their location.

By the time they reached Frostmourne, the phantom pain Sylvanas felt was nigh overwhelming. She could feel the cold steel of the runeblade that floated on the dais before them as if it were still lodged in her chest. Despite the agony, however, she fought to retain her poise. Her being helpless would serve none of them on this mission and would only earn her more worried looks from Jaina. As such, she stood stoic and tall before the sword, her mind focused not on the agony it gave her but instead the agony she would inflict on it's wielder.

Besides, Sylvanas wasn't the only one who suffered at the Lich King's hands. A fact that she intended to use to their advantage. She closed her eyes and extended a gauntlet clad hand to the blade, reached out with her senses.

“What are you doing?” Jaina asked, looking increasingly concerned at Sylvanas.

“I’m calling upon the souls trapped in the blade,” Sylvanas replied, her focus unwavering. “I can hear their voices crying and pleading for relief from their torment. I just need to find one who can speak clearly.” Her efforts were rewarded with that of a familiar visage standing before the group.

"Lord Uther!" Jaina gasped.

"Jaina Proudmoore," The spirit replied before turning to look at the woman beside her. "Sylvanas Windrunner. You two should never have come here."

"We seek the death of the Lich King, Paladin," Sylvanas said.

"You were foolish to think you would find it here. In his seat of power," Uther chided.

"We can't afford to face him anywhere else," Jaina explained. "We have to stop him here before his power spreads across all of Azeroth!"

"You do not understand, girl! Even if you were to vanquish Arthas here, you would be surrounded by a Scourge suddenly set loose from their masters leash. They would spread like locus across the land!"

Sylvanas glowered. She remembered a time where the Lich King's death would all but ensure the Scourge's demise, but it seems that Arthas had bolstered his ranks enough to eliminate that possibility.

"I suspect the last bit of humanity that Arthas has left is all that is holding the Scourge at bay," Uther continued.

Jaina's eyes widened at Uther’s words. "So you're saying that there's still good left in him?"

"Now is not the time!" The entire party yelled at Jaina. In any other circumstances, the sight would have been seen as comical.

"It won’t be enough to save you. Even if it was, there must always be a Lich King. He-” Uther paused, his spectral visage dawning a look of horror. “... He's coming! You must flee! You mu-"

"That's enough out of you, old ghost," came a chilling, haunting voice.

The spirit before them vanished as the sword flew from its pedestal and into the clutches of the Lich King himself who stood at the doorway at the far end of the hall.

Sylvanas' crimson eyes appeared to burn like fire as her rage came to the forefront of her mind. The object of her revenge was right in front of her after all these years. She drew the sabre from her hilt and readied herself for battle as did the entirety of her party.

In response to this, the Lich King waved his hand almost lazily towards the armored figures that appeared on either side of the hall. "Falric. Marwyn. Deal with this infestation." The corpses stirred and jolted to life, stepping from where they rested and readied themselves for battle. With his champions summoned Arthas turned and left the chamber through the doorway from where he came.

"Coward! You won't escape me so easily, Arthas!" Sylvanas bellowed, already giving chase. "My vengeance will be had!"

"Sylvanas, wait!" Jaina called out, rushing after the banshee. 

By the time she caught up with the two of them, the doors to the hall were magically shut, leaving the remainder of their party behind to deal with the champions. She didn’t stop to look behind her. Her gaze was fixed on the two before her. The chamber they found themselves in was noticeably empty, containing only a set of doors behind and in front of them and what appeared to be a cavern cut out from the ice on the side of them. She watched as Sylvanas lunged at the Lich King, sabre arcing downward to cleave into him. 

Her efforts were almost effortlessly parried away, the power of Arthas’ deflection sending her back almost the entire distance she had just leaped. “Foolish little witch,” Arthas said dismissively. “You were never a match for me.” He pointed Frostmourne in Sylvanas’ direction where she laid, stunned by his counter. Blue, deathly power swelling in the blade before launching at her before she managed to collect herself.

The necrotic projectile did not reach its target however. A wall of ice shot up from the cold floor, taking the blast and saving Sylvanas. As the wall was reduced into a cloud of frost by the blast, Jaina stepped forward, standing between Arthas and Sylvanas.

“You will not touch her,” Jaina said, her tone low and her eyes burning with pure arcane power. “You will never touch her again.” 

"Jaina…" Arthas whispered, his tone as unreadable as his helm concealed expression. "...Why have you come here?"

"You have much to answer for, Arthas," Jaina said, standing to her full Kul Tiran height, proud and unwavering under the Lich King's piercing gaze. "I came to see if there was anything left of the man I knew. that man that would be horrified at all he has done."

A beat of silence passed. If Jaina didn't know better, she'd have suspected that Arthas himself seemed at a loss for words for a moment before he finally spoke again. "Foolish girl," he whispered. "What you want no longer exists."

"I never wanted you," Jaina said sharply before gesturing to Sylvanas. "All I've ever wanted is her, and you nearly took her from me. You razed her home as you did your own before it. You refused to give her peace of death and subjected her to unspeakable torment. You forced her to murder her own people in your name. You made the woman I love suffer unbelievably as you have so many others, and today, you will suffer for it."

Sylvanas was momentarily stunned as she stared at Jaina. The way she so fiercely and confidently stood opposed to Arthas, in her defense, no less. She was expecting the mage to stammer and plead with him to look into his cold dead heart for whatever shrivel of humanity he had left. She certainly wasn’t expecting this. 

“Then you shall share her fate,” came that sickeningly hollow voice again.

Sylvanas eyes snapped back to Arthas, who seemed to be preparing to strike against Jaina. Moving swiftly to the side, she let loose an arrow that struck into one of the Lich King's gaudy pauldrons, pulling his attention back to her. “Keep your eyes on me, Monster,” she hissed. “I’ll be the one to kill you.”

“You will try,” he countered. “And you both shall suffer even more than you could ever imagine.”

Jaina rushed to Sylvanas’ side, her staff and eyes glowing with power ready to be unleashed at the Lich King. “No recklessness,” she warned quietly to Sylvanas. “We face him together.”

“Try and keep up,” Sylvanas replied with an easy grin. 

Jaina and Sylvanas have never seriously fought side by side before this day. The closest they ever came was back in Silvermoon when their courtship was still young, a lifetime ago. Sylvanas would teach Jaina the essentials of close quarters combat through indulgent sparring sessions. The experienced Ranger General would always win of course, but each time Jaina would do a little bit better, especially when she was encouraged to fight dirty. 

Beyond that, all their most significant battles were always faced apart from one another. Silvermoon, Mount Hyjal, the Lordaeron Capital, Theramore. There was never a battle these two faced where they fought alongside the other. There was no telling how such a skirmish would unfold for them or their opponents. 

It seemed that the answer to that curiosity was something to behold. 

Their teamwork was impeccable. When Jaina conjured another defensive ice wall, Sylvanas would lunge over it to immediately counter the Lich King’s assault with a flurry of arrows. When Sylvanas found herself surrounded by freshly conjured ghouls, a water elemental rushed to her aid. Whenever Jaina needed but a moment to prepare another powerful spell, an ear splitting banshee’s wail was unleashed upon Arthas in order to give the mage breathing room. Practiced and concentrated arcane might was coupled with the lethal and accurate precision of a ranger. 

They were a powerful duo, complimenting each other's strengths while compensating for their weaknesses. They were synchronized. They were deadly. They were perfect.

But to the Lich King? They were annoying.

With a wide swing of his runeblade, a massive wave of necrotic power was sent flying at the two. The icy wall Jaina conjured was easily broken through, the dark power sending the two back into the hard unforgiving wall behind them. Sylvanas was the first on her feet as she hurried over to Jaina who was still trying to gather herself and blink the blurriness from her vision away.

“Sylvanas…” she let out weakly, causing Sylvanas’ still heart to pang in panic.

Her crimson gaze shot back onto Arthas, who seemed to regard them with irritation. “He’s stronger,” she whispered to Jaina. “Stronger than we were prepared for.”

The doors suddenly burst open, calling the attention of everyone in the room. Anevay, Pained, Nathanos and the priest all stepped inside, their trappings coated in the dark bile of the undead they had just felled. The group rushed to Sylvanas and Jaina’s aide, the priest working quickly to tend to the still dizzy and aching Proudmoore. 

“Arthas,” Anevay remarked, venom thick in her voice as she pointed her bloodied warblade at the Lich King. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

As if on cue, the door on the far end of the hall swung open as well, revealing a swarm of scourge pouring into the room. Far too many for any of them to handle while the Lich King was also present. 

“...Shit,” Anevay grimaced.

“We must retreat!” Sylvanas said, ushering the group to the cavern. Jaina and the priest were the first to make their way into the carved out path. Nathanos soon followed whilst sending deadly arrows into the skulls of ghouls that threatened to cut off their exit. Pained was next, not wanting to let Jaina out of her sights. Sylvanas watched as Anevay kept stalling her withdrawal to cut through more undead as they approached. “Darkflare! Retreat! That’s an order!”

Begrudgingly, the Blood Elf disengaged and rushed into the cavern. They swiftly made it to the rest of the party, putting some distance between them and the swarm that pursued them. Past the rabid mass of ghouls and skeleton warriors, Sylvanas could see Arthas picking up the rear. He walked slowly, making little effort to close the gap between him and his prey. Perhaps he was just being arrogant. Perhaps he was certain his Scourge would be able to overwhelm them without his interference. 

Perhaps he was in no rush because there was no hope of escape. A possibility that seemed far more likely when they suddenly reached the end of the cavern.

“Dammit!” Pained hissed, slamming a fist against the ice wall. “We’re trapped.”

“T-There has to be another way out of here… right!?” the Priest asked meekly. 

Sylvanas stepped forward to examine the ice wall, but her inspection was halted by the swarm that managed to catch up to them. “Buy us some time!” She yelled to the other four. Anevay and Pained all but leapt at the oncoming ghouls. Nathanos supported them with quick and precise shots from his bow. The priest managed to hurl volley’s of light at the enemy, his holy power burning their decaying flesh.

Their weapons carved through the rotting undead, but something felt different. Their attacks required more strength than before. Their defenses required more dexterity. These Scourge were stronger than the ones they had faced up to that point. Perhaps proximity to their master has granted them more power. Regardless, the fact remained that the warriors would not last long like this. 

Sylvanas looked to Jaina, who seemed mostly recovered thanks to the efforts of the priest, but still noticeably tired. “Can you portal us away from here?” she asked.

“No,” Jaina said, shaking her head solemnly. “Something about this place is resisting such attempts. It won’t let anyone in or out.” Her attention turned back to the ice wall. “I suspect this might not be solid all the way through, however,” Jaina added. “Give me a moment.” Sylvanas nodded in understanding and turned her attention to the ravenous mob of undead that threatened to overwhelm them, arrows being drawn and shot in quick fluid motions. 

She took a moment to collect herself. Wisps of blue and purple energy began to well in her hands. She was not preparing a spell of any intricacy. She was concentrating raw power to be released in a single burst. A burst that she unleashed upon the ice wall. Surely enough the solid barrier gave way, breaking and dissipating in a cloud of frost. As it cleared, it revealed another thirty feet to the path.

“Back!” Sylvanas ordered while knocking another arrow. The party rushed down the freshly made trail for them, the scourge not far behind. It wasn’t long before they reached the new end of the path. Jaina prepared for another burst of magic, but appeared far more fatigued than she had a moment ago. Sylvanas took scant glances in between striking down the seemingly endless swarm to notice the mage struggling to collect more power into her palms. The freezing air became thick with tension. Anevay and Pained were still holding the line, but their movements were clearly slower through exhaustion. Nathano and Sylvanas spent their quivers and had to enter melee range to reacquire their shot arrows.The cavern became suffocating. Eventually Sylvanas realized that Jaina was taking longer to prepare herself than she had before.

“Jaina,” Sylvanas said urgently.

“I know! I know!” Jaina called back. “Just need… a little… there!” Suddenly another wave of arcane force struck at the wall, exploding in another cloud of frost nearly blinding the company in white. As the frost cleared another several meters were revealed, the party wasting no time to rush to the end of the path once more. 

Jaina nearly tripped over herself before reaching the end. Sylvanas managed to catch her, steading her against the wall. The mage panted hard, struggling to catch her breath. It was bad enough to have been casting such powerful spells in such quick succession. But the magic that she felt all around her. The dark power that composed the entirety of Icecrown seemed to be fighting her at every turn. It was as suffocating as the undead swarm that was running them down. 

There was precious little space that the party had to move. Anevay barely managed to pull her sword out of one ghoul before another three were right on top of her. The priest was all but spent of energy to use for healing, much less attacking. Sylvanas and Nathanos were nearly all out of usable arrows, the former drawing her final one before her eyes fell on Jaina. The young woman remained pressed against the wall and had not yet begun to charge another burst.

“Jaina! We need that wall down now!” she yelled impatiently.

“I know! I just need a few minutes,” Jaina pleaded.

“I don’t believe we have a ‘few minutes’ Lady Proudmoore,” the priest said, fear and fatigue heavy in his voice.

Sylvanas darted her eyes between the wall and the swarm that they seemed to be compressed between before she scoffed in irritation. “Oh the hell with this! Cover your ears!” she ordered turning to face the wall. 

With a single, powerful wail of Sylvanas’ haunting voice, two things happened. First, the narrow circular echo chamber that was the cave caused the sound and power of the wail to reverberate, causing a large portion of the assailing Scourge to suddenly fly backwards in tattered pieces. Second, the wall she was facing cracked and gave way in another burst of powdered frost. This time however, instead of revealing more of the pathway, it revealed the light of day.

The party rushed out the exit, feeling the bite of the cold wind on their face as they stepped out from the cavern. The relief of finally being out of the fortress was a short reprieve, however, before they turned to see Arthas not far behind them. The Lich King now appearing to have a small vortex of icy wind surrounding him. It was as if Northrend himself was called upon to be his shield.

“Move!” Sylvanas yelled to no objection as the party ran as quickly as they could through the snow. Pained had allowed Jaina to lean against her as they fled. The Scourge that ran after them seemed less numerous than they had in the cave, but with the Lich King now gaining on them slowly but surely, it was little comfort. In their rush to put more distance between them and him, no one was certain of where exactly they were fleeing. This unfortunately didn’t serve in their favor as they soon found themselves on the edge of a cliff face. 

“Oh you gotta be kidding me!” Anevay snarled.

Pained looked over the edge to see no ground they could maybe climb down to. Only a violent ocean thrashing against the cliff as well as large jagged spikes of ice poking out of the waves.  
“This is it,” she said grimly. “Nowhere left to run.” 

Sylvanas’ ear flickered, detecting a ghoul that was about to lunge at her from behind. Drawing her sabre, she swung around and cleaved the beast in two before it hit the ground. Looking up from her fresh kill, she saw more in coming as well as their master. 

“A valiant effort,” he said, his voice no less chilling than it was in the confined halls of Icecrown. “But here you shall fall.” 

“Still no hope of an escape portal?” Sylvanas asked Jaina

“...No,” Jaina said weakly. “I’m sorry, Sylvanas. I wanted to help you get your revenge. I really did.”

“Enough with that talk!” Sylvanas hissed, her vengeful eyes fixed on Arthas. “We’re still standing!”

As the other fought around them, Sylvanas drew upon her final arrow and aimed at Arthas. As she notched it onto her bowstring, she poured as much of her own dark power as she could muster into the arrow. All of her hatred and pain were channeled into the projectile. Before she fired however, she felt someone pressed against her back. Jaina. The mage had extended her arm out, calling upon whatever power she had left. Arcane power flowed once more into her free hand as she poured her own emotions into her attack. Her shame, her sorrow, her desperation to see her beloved survive this day. 

Both women fired simultaneously. 

The dark arrow and magic infused ice lance flew towards the Lich King. To those who witnessed it, it was as if time itself had slowed down. The two projectiles seemed to revolve around each other as they soared through the air. Suddenly, the magics within the two attacks seemed to thread together and merge into a single projectile of power.

Arthas made no move to defend against the attack. He did not expect it to have the power to break through his icy shield. It cut through the spiraling frost that surrounded him and lodged itself deep into Arthas’ side. The tyrant grunted in pain, falling down to one knee. He felt the magic of the attack begin to spread over the fresh wound, coating it in dark ice.

Sylvanas blinked. Surprised as everyone else to see that Arthas was brought down to his knee. Just a moment ago, she had accepted such a thing to be impossible as they were. But together, she and Jaina managed to wound him. And anything that could be wounded could be killed. A wicked smile soon spread across her face. ‘“We can do this,” Sylvanas said. “We can kill him! We-” 

Sylvanas suddenly felt Jaina slide off of her back, falling to ground. She whipped around to see Jaina conscious but still extremely weak. She used what little strength she had left for that last attack. The morale and bloodlust the Banshee felt coursing through her had vanished as quickly as it came. 

In her periphery, she noticed movement from Arthas. He extended his runeblade, channeling more of his necrotic power into it before firing his own projectile at the helpless mage. 

“NO!” Sylvanas cried out. She moved to collect Jaina into her arms and move her away before the blast hit her square in the back. It’s force sent both women into the air and off the cliff. 

Sylvanas didn’t let go of Jaina. She held onto her tightly as she attempted to push past the fresh source of pain inflicted onto her. Securing one arm around her, she extended her other to try and grab onto the cliff face. Her clawed gauntlets pierced and cut through the icy wall. They slid down the face for a moment longer before her hand finally found purchase. Their fall was halted. Sylvanas held on to the cliff as tightly as she held onto Jaina, who was now looking at her with panic instead of fatigue.

“Sylvanas! Are you okay!?” she yelled over the loud crashing of the waves just beneath them. 

“The pain is bearable,” Sylvanas reassured her. “Although I fear we’ve only prolonged our inevitable end a moment longer.” She looked up to the top of the cliff. She couldn’t see their companions, nor could she hear anything else over the roar of the ocean save for Jaina. “Still… perhaps dying to the sea is preferable to the alternative.” 

Jaina looked down at the sea before looking back up to Sylvanas. She cupped her cheek with the hand that wasn’t clinging to her. A soft, sad smile on her face. “Whatever end we face. Know that I love you with everything I am.” 

Sylvanas kept her eyes locked with Jaina, a sudden bout of relief washing over her. This was the end. The end for both of them. They only had this moment together before it all came to a close. In this moment, seconds from death, with no witnesses, the two of them only had each other.

She could let go.

“Jaina,” she began softly as she began to loosen her grip on the cliff. “I lo-”

The distinct sound of cannon fire boomed through the air. Sylvanas and Jaina both snapped their gaze skyward to its source. From behind the massive clouds in the sky, they saw an Alliance gunship descend and reign fire onto the cliff where Arthas and his Scourge were. The icy ground shook as the cannonballs made contact, urging Sylvanas to tighten her grip once more. After a moment longer, the gunship stopped firing. The two women couldn’t see the outcome of the battle, but Sylvanas could feel the phantom pain in her chest from Frostmourne grow ever fainter, as if it were farther away. 

Sylvanas looked upon the gunship in disbelief. They had survived. They had been saved. She and Jaina would go on to see another day. 

 

Jaina looked around at the Forsaken encampment in her search for Sylvanas. In all honesty, she should have been resting in the medical tent of her own encampment, but by the time they managed to get a single potion down her throat she was already out and crafting a portal. It was a foolish action and her body would likely hate her for it when next she woke, but she didn’t care. She and Sylvanas had almost died and she wanted to be with her.

As she looked to and fro for whatever tent Sylvanas was inside, she noted how the Forsaken seemed friendlier than any of the Scourge she had just faced, or at least less mindless. They looked at her with confusion and a little suspicion, but made no move to bar her way. In all her time corresponding with Sylvanas, Jaina never got the opportunity to meet with any of the Forsaken. These children of Lorderon who suffered at the hands of the Scourge and were forgotten by the Alliance they were a part of. She wanted to help these people however she could. Perhaps if all went well after this campaign, she would be able to start doing that. 

“Lady Proudmoore,” came a raspy voice from right behind her. Jaina jumped, spinning around to see Nathanos. 

“Oh. Blightcaller,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “You startled me.” 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, uninterested in any small talk.

“Well, I came to see Sylvanas,” Jaina replied, rather confused how that wasn’t obvious. “I wanted to make sure she’s alright.”

“Her apothecaries are tending to her,” Nathanos assured her. “She will recover, but she is in no position to be accepting guests.”

“I know. I just…” Jaina paused, trying to form some rationale in her head for her actions. “...I almost lost her today. I just… I would feel a lot more at ease if I could spend some time with her. And I think she would feel the same way.”

Nathanos was quiet, the brow of his decayed face furrowing slightly as he pondered Jaina’s words. “...This way,” he said finally, ushering Jaina to follow him. The mage did so and soon the two were in front of a tent that was much larger than the others surrounding it.

Before Jaina could step inside, Nathanos lifted a single skeletal hand before her, silently instructing her to wait. He stepped through the flaps of the tent. Jaina could hear hushed, muffled conversation on the other side although couldn’t discern what was being said. The flaps parted again as Nathanos and two apothecaries stepped out. 

“She will see you now,” Nathanos said gruffly.

“Thank you,” Jaina replied before stepping into the tent. 

Inside, her eyes scanned the dark tent that was dimly illuminated by a single lamp overhead. On one end of her periphery, she could see a war table with crude maps and figure pieces placed atop of it. On the other end she saw a wardrobe that had Sylvanas bow and armor hanging inside. In the center, of course, was Sylvanas standing before her atop some furs that were spread over the ground and surrounded by several jars and vials that were left behind by the Apothecaries. What caught Jaina’s attention was that Sylvanas was wearing tight doeskin breeches, simple boots, and a series of bandages that were wrapped tightly around her torso. Nothing else.

Jaina was silent as a slight blush grew on her cheeks. She hadn’t seen Sylvanas this… bare since she was alive. It was clear that undeath had not made her any less stunning. Her skin was flawless, baring the scar of Frostmourne that peeked through the bandages on her chest. In fact, it appeared as if Sylvanas was bereft of all the scars she had in life. The ones she spent many nights counting. Jaina couldn’t help but be slightly saddened about that.

“You’re gawking, Proudmoore,” Sylvanas noted plainly. 

“Oh! Sorry,” Jaina said sheepishly, stepping towards the Banshee. “I… I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

Sylvanas allowed a small, gentle smile to grace her dark lips. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll admit, I was not expecting to make it out of that encounter alive.” Sylvanas then looked Jaina up and down before narrowing her gaze. “You should be resting. I know you’re still exhausted.”

“I wanted to see you,” Jaina said plainly, closing the distance between them. “After what we just went through, I think we’re entitled to some personal time together.”

“...Right now?” Sylvanas asked arching a brow. “I don’t think the Frozen North is suitably romantic enough for such things.”

Jaina blushed furiously before swatting at Sylvanas’ shoulder. “Oh, you know that’s not what I meant!” she frowned. 

Sylvanas’ smile widened. “You dare lay a hand on the Banshee Queen?” she asked mockingly. 

“I dare when she’s being an ass,” Jaina huffed before wrapping her arms around Sylvanas’ waist and nestling into her. She was especially cold thanks to being exposed to the Frozen North, but not uncomfortably so. Sylvanas simply stood there for a moment before returning the embrace. 

“We’ll get him, Sylvanas,” Jaina whispered. “I promise.”

“I know,” Sylvanas said, her grip on the mage tightening. “...Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“Everything.”

The two stood there in comfortable silence a moment longer before Jaina spoke again. “On the cliff… you were about to say something. What was it?”

Sylvanas didn’t answer right away, silently thankful that their embrace hid her face. “...I don’t remember,” she replied.

Jaina pulled away slightly to give Sylvanas an unconvicted look. “Yeah, nice try. What was it.” 

Sylvanas averted her eyes. “...It was something I wanted to say when I thought we were moments away from certain death.”

“So I have to wait until another near death experience to find out what you said?” Jaina asked unamused.

“Perhaps.” 

Jaina said nothing immediately but kept her gaze firmly on Sylvanas. “...Is it something you’ve told me before?” she guessed. “When you were still alive?”

“... Perhaps,” Sylvanas said, her expression growing dour. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because you should be allowed to say it,” Jaina said, her face softening from the confirmation. Her hand raised cup Sylvanas’ cheek. “Even if you don’t wish to say the words, your feelings show in your actions. They show in all those visits you took to Theramore. They show in how hurt you looked when you thought that I might betray you. They show in how you kissed me in the Undercity. And they show in how you saved me just hours ago.”

Sylvanas still refused to meet Jaina’s gaze, although she found herself leaning into the hand that caressed her cheek. “And what does my refusal to say the words tell you?” she asked.

“That you’re simply afraid to love again. I can understand that,” Jaina said. “Just know that I’ll still be here when you’re ready to say them.”

“Are you so certain of that?” Sylvanas asked, finally daring to meet Jaina’s eyes.

Jaina smiled and responded by leaning forward to capture the Banshee’s unsuspecting lips in a soft kiss. When she pulled away, she nearly laughed at the utter bewilderment on Sylvanas’ face. 

“I am,” she said softly and confidently.

 

Arthas could feel very little anymore. He couldn’t feel the cold winds that constantly blew against him. He couldn’t feel the weight of his own armor. He couldn’t feel the anger, joy, sorrow or love that he used to feel years ago.

What he could absolutely feel however, was the icy pain in his side. 

The Lich King was slumped over the Frozen Throne, trying in vain to ignore the agony of dark ice that was still embedded inside him. No matter what his necromancers and liches had tried, the ice would not vanish and the wound would not mend. The best he could do was focus on keeping the venomous ice from spreading. 

He had not expected a combined attack from Sylvanas and Jaina to be so powerful. Yet here he was, almost doubled over from the agony they each poured into this attack. 

He gripped Frostmourne tightly. Those women dared to commit the sin of scarring him. He would vow to make them pay for this. This he swore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a near death experience to help the lesbians bond!

**Author's Note:**

> Previous work  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/18436163


End file.
